Day Zero / Season 1, Episode 11
Blood on the Gurney
Nina’s sneakers squeak against the wet linoleum, the sound sharp in the suffocating quiet of the third-floor admin wing. Her hands grip the gurney’s side rail, knuckles pale, as she shoves it forward with a grunt. The teenage boy strapped to it—his name’s lost in the haze of the last hour—breathes in shallow, wet gasps, his chest barely rising under the blood-soaked gauze. The smell of iron and antiseptic clings to her, mixing with the musty dampness of the flooded hospital. Somewhere behind her, Hector’s heavy boots thud unevenly, his flashlight beam jittering across the walls, catching on overturned filing cabinets and shattered glass from a window that shouldn’t be broken up here. Jamal’s ahead, his shoulder hunched as he clears a path, kicking aside a rolling chair that spins lazily into a cubicle. The air feels thick, like breathing through a wet cloth, and the distant hum of the mob downstairs vibrates through the building’s bones. “Left or right?” Jamal’s voice rasps, low and urgent, as they reach a T-junction in the corridor. His dark eyes flick to Nina, sweat beading on his temple despite the clammy chill. The emergency exit signs above are dead, no glow, no guidance, just black shapes against the gray ceiling. Nina’s mind stumbles. Left—didn’t Hector say something about storage rooms that way? Or...